To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what far country does this morrow lie,
That ’tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
‘Tis so far fetch’d this morrow, that I fear
‘Twill be both very old and very dear.
To-morrow I will live, the fool does say;
To0-day itself’s too late, the wise liv’d yesterday.
“A piece of the action is all I’m askin’
Everything broke down into fractions
The fire long dead, this just smoke and ashes
Hope is an assassin, fear fill up the casket
One day I woke up, everything was made of plastic
“She loves me not” is where we landed
When the music stops, folks start looking for answers”
billy woods | “Artichoke”